dissolve&decay
by the pharoah
Summary: akuroku: blondie, your life in this dusty old town is about to get a helluva lot more interesting now that you've met the man with the acid eyes.


Akuroku will forever own my soul so here I bring you a little drabbl-y one-shot. woo-hooo. Anyways  
I hope you will enjoy this. Plese read&review

--  
dissolve**&**decay  
**axel** x _roxas_  
--

In a big ole' town like this, you never really see anything. Your baby blues never really witness anything **amazing. **Even when your job is bartender in the town's most popular bar, all you ever see are boring people living boring lives with boring stories. And you're one of them.

The words, "Can I help you?" have been spoken so many times over and over and _over _again that you are absolutetly positively sick to death. You've been hit on so many times you feel like pouring their glass of preferred beer all over them to cool off their hot bodies. And you've been underpaid so many times, you feel like just storming out of here, while you at least have your dignity. You have lived this life for too long, something's gotta change.

And then **he** walks in. He's limping but your attention is deviated towards his hair wild and unmaneagable, fiery red and so full of character. His eyes, locking onto you and making your heart stop, acid, jade green, with a pin prick of black dead in the center. Studded lashes surround his eye, thick like coal, and underneath those entrancing eyes, black tattoos, looking like tear-drops. His clothes, dusty and grimy, leather annd brown, loose and fitting. Contradictory and smooth. He is definately the most interesting thing that has _ever_ walked into your bar.

He seats himself at your bar, right in front of you and offers a smile, suave and sweet and definately practiced. Your cheeks turn hot and your lips feel dry as you ask, "What can I get you, sir? I noticed you limping when you walked in. Need a phone?" You ask politely, while keeping your eyes locked on his, not because you want to, but because you can't look away.

"Nah Blondie. It's all good." He speaks, voice as sharp as his tongue, that slowly slides deftly over his bottom lip. He's looking at you like you're something to be eaten. And you kind of like it. "What I want actually, is a pitcher of whiskie. Maybe we could share?" He inquires, eyes so filled with lust you feel your knees grow weak.

"I don't know if i'm allowed to--"

"Don't worry Blondie, it's on me." He says, fingers taunting you as they ghost along your hair, your ear, your cheek, your jaw. Before you know it, your rallying up a pitcher of whiskie, just for you and the man with the acid eyes.

--

"Hey blue eyes." He says, slurring because he is so wasted and you grin, laughing in a drunken stupor at his nicknames he offers you. "It was fun but I better go. Y'know, other things to see." He winks and smiles that smile that reeled you in before and you feel like telling him to stay, because he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. But he salutes you with two fingers to his forehead and gets up from his stool. He stumbles on his bad leg, and even stumbling, he still does it in the most graceful way you've ever seen. Your hopping over the bar because it's too long a walk around and you try to assist in helping him up.

"I don't need yer fucking help." He hisses, shoving you away and attempting to stand up on his own. With his head held high, he stumbles towards the exit. You grab his arm pleading with him,

"Let me drive you to the doctor--"

"Fuck that. I ain't going to no doctor's office." He yells, shaking his head furiosly at you. "Let me just go find a hotel or some shit."

"At least stay with me tonight, please?" You practically beg and you feel fucking pathetic, begging some stranger to stay with you. But he's unlike anyone you met before, he's strange, unique, the only thing tonight that stopped you from maybe screaming out in frustration and running out of that bar.

He looks at you like your insane, your face so close to his, you see in the depths of those jade eyes, he's grateful. Or, that's what you tell yourself. "Fine Blondie, whatever you say."

"It's Roxas." You correct and he laughs.

"Sure thing Blondie."

He doesn't tell me, so to myself, I just call him the man with acid eyes.

--

You barely made it into your apartment and he's on you, lips roughly and sloppily massaging your own. It's wet and your sure its not his best work but your still a little tipsy so it's fine. You kiss back, trying to keep up with his pace but he shoves his tongue, circling it against yours. You groan, working on the buttons of his black shirt, pulling the silk off his body and reveling in a new type of silky feel, his skin, ivory and soft. No mars, no freckles, just perfect skin.

He pulls away, a trail of saliva keeping your lips connected to his, until he swipes it away with a slick tongue. His hands are freeing you of your own bartender uniform, and without even a break, your dress pants are off even faster. He kisses your neck, suckling and biting as his hands run along your stomach, slowly and then, lower, down your boxers, exploringly.

It's all a rush after that, your eyes see white sun-spots as he explores you, you explore him, and you wonder how you got so lucky to meet the man with the acid eyes.

--

It's bright, your sore, and you have a hang over and as you wake up with the lights near blinding you, you hear a small and familiar laugh.

"You know you have like whimper before you wake up."

You're confused for a minute. Had you brought someone home? And as you open your eyes you see him, Alex or Axel right? The man with bright red spikes and green eyes. To be honest, your suprised he's still here.

You yawn and rub your eyes awake. "Your still here?" You ask and you hear his laugh again. You realize you like it.

"What, is that not allowed?" He asks, grinning at you.

"No it's just--how's your leg?" You question, not wanting to say he looks like a one-night stand type of guy that leaves at the crack of dawn.

Again a laugh but this time, it's long, loud, and hysterical. Once he's done you stare at him, brow quirked and he gives you an apologetic look.

"Listen Blondie, you wanna know why I stumbled into your little bar? It's because a friend of mine told me that there was this cute boy with baby blues that bartended there. So I used the old hurt leg thing to reel you in."

You sock him lightly on the arm and laugh. "Asshhole."

"That's what they call me."

"So what's your real name?"

"...Axel." He finallly says after a pause. "Got it memorized?"

I nod and realize that my time in this old town was about to get a _lot_ more interesting.


End file.
